Canisp III: Destiny
by Shrrgnien
Summary: Just because CS Lewis never told their stories doesn't mean they weren't there. Or, the story of the Werewolves of Archenland, the journey to the Garden of the Emperor and what came of it; of guardian angels and cold-blooded treachery, of love and hurt, ties cut and new ones made; of tenderness and pity, respect and defiance and, above all, of courage in all its forms.
1. Places

**A/N:** Welcome, dearest heart.

If you're still with me after all this time: thank you. Thank you for believing in me and giving me your support. I love each and every one of you. I hope you are never disappointed.

**Chapter 1-Places**

Hosni yawned.

He opened his eyes and promptly squeezed them shut again, reaching blindly for the nearest blanket. _Mmm,_ he thought dimly. _Too bright. Sun bad. _Finding the blanket and ignoring that it seemed unusually heavy and quite cold, he pulled it back over his head and rolled onto his side.

It took him several minutes to remember where he was.

Tearing the blanket from his head (and realizing belatedly that it was actually a rather wet deerskin), he sat bolt upright, blinking the dazzling sunlight from his vision and looking around wildly.

The morning forest was fresh and new-looking after its scouring the night before. The grass—along with most everything else—was still damp with rain, and the light looked slightly different; softer, more delicate. The trees were darker than they had been, except for dry strips on the eastern side.

Vesta gave a long, deep sigh; Hosni could feel the movement from where she slept beside him. He sat up and stretched, feeling his legs twinge. He was still sore from the long desert ride, and frowned slightly at the thought.

On the bright side, they weren't nearly as cold or wet as he had expected when he'd slipped out the night before. The trees and the old rockslide had worked together to create a sort of shelter. Vesta had positioned herself so as to block most of the remaining wind; by curling up against her warm side, covering her with the waterproof cloak and himself with the deerskin, they had created quite a comfortable nest.

But the sun was already halfway overhead and his stomach was wriggling disturbingly, so it really was time to get up. He took one last, relaxed breath before swatting Vesta's side to communicate this idea.

After several minutes, he finally managed to irritate her into cracking open one big black eye. He grinned, leaned over to pat her chest enthusiastically and felt her grumble before she rolled onto her other side (making him scramble away to avoid being squashed) and went back to sleep.

He rubbed her tummy, scratched her shoulders and generally fussed until she was once again thoroughly awake.

Vesta threw him a dirty look and gave an irritated huff, and Hosni smiled. The Horse's eyes were crusted with sleep, but the dead, glazed look from the desert crossing was gone. In its place were quiet warmth, and the fiery mischief Hosni had missed.

Her frighteningly large teeth parted in a wide, jaw-cracking yawn, and she shook her mane out sharply, blinking the last of her disorientation away. _Well,_ it said. _That's quite enough of that._ She gave Hosni a good-natured shove and hauled herself to her feet, flicking her tail briskly as she looked around with renewed interest.

Hosni's innards wriggled again, and Vesta glanced back in amusement. Glancing at his belly and smiling with her eyes, she flicked her tail again. _Go eat, silly boy_, she said calmly, dropping her head and lipping delicately at a freshly-washed shrub of some sort, and he smiled and went to obey.

He almost crashed into the large black wolf in the tunnel, and scrambled back in fear at the imposition of letting himself in without permission; but the wolf just blinked reassuringly and slipped past him, breaking into a gentle lope down the mountain. His mate, the red female, also smiled at him as he slid into the den. They both seemed friendly enough. He supposed their strange intelligence should have been unnerving, but after spending so much time with Vesta and the rest of Ilona's family, he'd gotten used to the idea.

Breakfast, in the form of a slightly stale roll and a small jar of honey, was snatched from the saddlebags in short order, and he exited the den gratefully. Vesta had apparently not found the shrub to her liking; when Hosni caterpillar-crawled his way out of the tunnel she barely gave him time to stand before leading him down to the open, grassy area they had seen the day before.

Here she had a long drink and a proper breakfast, and he ate his—the honey made the roll taste just as good as a fresh one, and he hoped that Ilona would come back soon so he could thank her.

As he was thinking this, and wondering when he would be able to get his hands on paper, his thoughts were interrupted rather rudely by a hard shove at the back of his head. He turned to peer quizzically at the Horse, and she tossed her head, pawing impatiently at the ground.

_Aren't you finished yet?_ she demanded. _Get a move on, slowpoke, some of us want to run!_

His eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. _Oh, no,_ he said. _I'm not good at it!_

Vesta rolled her eyes and pranced, offering her back and flicking her ears in invitation.

_Don't be silly,_ she said, dropping her head entreatingly, and her 'voice' was gentle. _Let me show you._

* * *

Canisp found Orion at the stream just after dawn, fluttering about and tossing cool, fresh water over his dusty feathers. He dipped his beak into the flow and then fluffed his feathers out in a snap, flinging droplets everywhere. He looked quite content.

"Morning," he said happily. She acknowledged him with a nod and dipped her head into the little tributary, lapping up some of the rushing rainwater from last night. It was cold and clean, flowing more powerfully with the runoff from the storm, and she drank gratefully.

She didn't speak, and Orion respected her silence. He hopped over as she lay down with a tired sigh, worn out from the long night and, more so, by the nature of the conversation.

Without a word, Orion bumped his head against hers. She nudged him back before resting her head on her paws, staring into the swift-running stream. He made an odd, burbling sound like a dove, nuzzling in a touchingly wolflike manner into the thick fur at her throat.

Comfort seeped into her very bones at the simple gesture. She leaned unthinkingly into him and gave a long, weary sigh. The rustle of the sun-kissed leaves suddenly seemed very far away.

* * *

"Canisp?" Jenga's voice was quiet in the early morning, and she greeted Canisp with a simple nod when the changeling looked up. "Morning," she murmured, lowering her head to the cold stream. "You're up early."

"So are you," Orion pointed out.

Jenga gave a whuff of laughter. "Fair enough." There was silence as she lapped up a leisurely drink, then gave a long yawn and stretched, shaking her fur out vigorously in an attempt to wake herself up. She looked at Canisp with concern. "How's the wing?"

She hadn't thought about her injured wing until it was mentioned, but now that she had no choice Canisp realized it was actually extremely uncomfortable. The tight bindings seemed to have gotten tighter, and the cramped position had become almost intolerable. Besides that, the poinsettia poultice seemed to be wearing off; a powerful, aching pain was beginning to make itself known once more. For the moment it was bearable, but she suspected that once the healing properties of the mix wore off completely the pain would be close to incapacitating.

Jenga winced in sympathy at the look on Canisp's face. "I thought so," she said. "You really should have had your bandages changed yesterday, but we couldn't bear to wake you up and then the storm blew in…"

"It's fine," Canisp said quickly. "Really. You've done too much for us already."

Jenga gave her an odd look; a mixture of surprise, confusion and pity. "No more than any Northerner would do. Anyway, we thought it would start bothering you again by this morning. Kiro's on his way to get his portion of the kill from yesterday. The Calormene horses," she clarified quickly. "Kane and Marina—you met them the day before yesterday, I don't know if you remember?"

"The werewolves?" Canisp asked warily. Jenga inclined her head.

"They assumed the rest of the soldiers must have had horses too, and they were right—there were three more stumbling around at the edge of the desert. Marina said it was practically a mercy kill, they were dying already; one of them collapsed as they were trying to herd them back to the forest. Kane had to send a scouting party to butcher it and drag it in—and since werewolves don't need to eat very often, they're giving us a good portion of the kill."

She seemed almost afraid of how Canisp would take the news; it _had_ been a slaughter rather than a hunt, and all Talking Beasts that depended on meat to survive had a very strict honor code about such things. But then Canisp was as much a predator as Jenga, and prey was prey; as much as she pitied the poor creatures their pain, she had to survive as well.

Speaking of which, she was _incredibly_ hungry. Her stomach announced this loudly to the world at large, and Orion snickered.

Jenga ran out her tongue in a relieved grin. "Kiro should be back soon," she said. "Once you've eaten something we'll find Angela and she'll take a look at your wing."

A powerful sense of unease squirmed worriedly in Canisp's gut at this new mention of the werewolves. She didn't know how Jenga could make such casual mention of them—or, for that matter, what werewolves were doing openly roaming the Southern March to begin with. _Not another war,_ she thought miserably. _Not now. I can't do it, I can't bear it, I _can't… But she could hardly help trusting their hosts, now; and _they_ seemed willing to trust the creatures.

And so, that was all there was to it. She would try to forget; forget the allies found gutted in the woods, the shuddering call of dark deeds best left unspoken echoing through the trees and making even the dominants quiver, dark shapes in pursuit, eyes glowing red in the night with all the malice of Hell itself, friends torn to pieces in defense of their pups while a lone wolf cried out on a windswept cliff and try—_try_—to leave the werewolf pack some benefit of the doubt.

She couldn't stop the shiver of revulsion and fear, and while Jenga's eyes tightened, she didn't comment on it.

"Who's the boy?" she asked instead, her voice light as she changed the subject. "He didn't introduce himself, so I didn't ask. And the Horse who was with you doesn't talk much, either—she hasn't forgotten _how_, has she?"

She sounded genuinely horrified, and Orion was quick to ease her fear. As quickly as possible, he explained Vesta's condition, and how curiously it seemed to mesh with Hosni's. About Hosni he said only that the two had made friends and they'd brought him out of slavery in Calormen. He looked worriedly at Canisp, and seemed to decide not to mention Ilona.

She didn't know whether or not to be grateful, and before she could decide a loud, lupine howl split the air, piercing and confident and coming from very near by.

Canisp's body responded before she had time to. Her good wing flared, so suddenly the _snap_ was almost painful. She whirled to face the sound and braced herself defensively, fur standing on end and a vicious snarl rising in her chest.

Jenga yelped as the powerful wing caught her hard upside the head. Orion started violently at the sudden flash of white, and only just barely stopped himself from taking off.

"Canisp!" he cried. "It's just Kiro!"

The rush of panic and bloodlust that had sped to the surface at the sound of a male Wolf's call disappeared as suddenly as it had come, leaving Canisp reeling in its wake. That could _not_ have been a normal response…

Orion looked as alarmed as she felt; Jenga, while her eyes were sad, didn't seem surprised.

"Are you back?" she asked simply. Canisp took a moment to balance herself before giving a slightly shaky nod, and Jenga inclined her head in return. "Then if you're not in too much pain yet you really do need to eat. With a wound like that you need your strength."

"It's not that bad," Canisp said distractedly as another, sharper wave of pain spread through her injured wing.

"Liar," Jenga grinned. "But come on, or Kiro will eat everything while he's waiting."

The natural way she moved on from Canisp's brief fit of insanity was reassuring, and Canisp found herself steadying much more quickly than she'd expected.

As Jenga led them at an easy, jogging trot back toward the den, they heard a distant whinny. Canisp's ear twitched toward the sound, followed an instant later by the rest of her head, and she heard Orion's faint laughter from somewhere over the trees.

After a moment, she saw the source. Vesta, cherry-red against the Northern summer, danced in circles at the base of the mountain, tossing her head in the open clearing. Hosni chased after her, slipping slightly in the wet grass, snatching at the scrap of grey cloth held teasingly out of reach between the Horse's teeth.

Prancing to a stop, Vesta reared and tossed the cap cheerfully over her back; Hosni jumped for it, missed, and ran to pick it back up off the ground as she gave another whinnying laugh. He threw something at her flank in retaliation—probably a pebble, too small for Canisp to see; Orion would know what it was. Vesta bolted into a short, instinctive gallop before pulling up and neighing at the boy, pawing fiercely at the air in a great demonstration of feigned anger; then, giving up the show, she bumped her nose lovingly into his shoulder and lay down to let him onto her back. He had to cling to her mane as she heaved herself back up, but he stayed seated and that seemed all the encouragement she needed. She gave a little skip, held herself to a slow canter while Hosni adjusted his seat; and then her hooves flashed again, mane tossed back in defiance of the world, and the two disappeared into the trees.

"There's a Narnian boy if I've ever seen one," Jenga said warmly, and Canisp gave a tongue-lolling smile in response, watching the forest below for the telltale bursts of color that were the only hint at Vesta's wild games. After several long minutes in which they sensed rather than saw the pair's elation at being _free_, Jenga glanced over at Canisp.

"You know he can't stay here," she said quietly.

Canisp looked over in shock. "What do you mean?" she asked, defensive. She didn't like the way Jenga said _he_; Wolf or no, Hosni was as much a part of her pack as…as Orion. If Jenga didn't want a strange pack to remain on her territory it was certainly her right to say so, but Canisp wouldn't stand for any one member being singled out.

Jenga lowered her head but didn't bow it; submissive but not _subservient_, a gesture that was very Narnian. Canisp instantly felt guilty for assuming the worst of her. "He doesn't belong here, Canisp," she said. "He's a human with no training—and with no way for you to teach him. He'll die."

"We could keep him alive," Canisp said. "He's not _stupid_, we could figure something out."

"And what would he do with his life?" Jenga countered. "Just sit around and let us feed him?" Canisp noted the 'us' with no small amount of surprise. "Canisp, that's no way for a growing Man to live! He'd go mad. Sons of Adam aren't so different from Wolves, you know—they need to _do_ something with their lives. He can't stand sentry and he can't scout, without being able to hear a threat coming. He certainly can't _hunt,_ can you imagine trying to coordinate? What if you were attacked in the Wild? You couldn't shout a warning to him, and even with Vesta to make up for his hearing, eventually something would go wrong. He can't _communicate_ with us, Canisp, and you know as well as I do that pack life depends on communication. He can't _live_ as a Wolf."

She was, unfortunately, right—it was something Canisp, much as she hated to, had been forced to think about as well. "I know," she admitted reluctantly. "But I don't know what to do with him. He's part of my pack, he's my responsibility. And I promised… someone, that I would take care of him."

Jenga gave her a curious look, but didn't ask who. "He needs to be with _people,"_ she stressed, as kindly as she could. "There _are_ other humans in the North now. You could take him to Anvard, it's closest; he could find light work somewhere, I'm sure. And of course Vesta would be with him; she's welcome anywhere in Narnia _or_ Archenland, this is her home."

The mention of Vesta's home jogged Canisp's memory. "What about the Hermit?" she said suddenly. "Vesta grew up with him, he's practically her father. Hosni could help him there, he'd be safe and happy-"

"And completely alone with only a mute Horse and an old man for company?" Jenga finished helpfully.

Canisp gave her an irritated look as her sudden flare of hope was snuffed out, but before she could say anything she was interrupted by a polite cough from the trees.

"Hate to interrupt," Orion called down breezily, hanging almost upside-down from a thin branch. "But arguing before the thermals are up is a terrible way to start a morning." He let go of his branch, which snapped back up into the tree, and fluttered down onto Canisp's shoulder. She yelped as he dug his talons into her unbound wing to steady himself.

"Sorry," he said. "But really. You're both acting like this is permanent. We're not locking Hosni up somewhere for the rest of his _life_, you know. He's a free Northerner now, he can go wherever he wants. We just need a safe place and an understanding human to take care of him until he's ready to be on his own. The Hermit is actually a good idea, if he's willing, and I'm sure it would be easier for _him_ to find Hosni a good place than us." His tone turned musing. "I can see him as a craftsman—remember the necklace he made Ilona? And that was without any kind of training or proper tools…" His eyes widened as he realized his mistake. Trying to cover it up, he added hastily "Or even an architect, maybe, if he had the skill. He's certainly smart enough to-"

"Ori!" Canisp ended up snapping more than she'd meant to, but there was no real anger in her voice. The Eagle coughed, and while Canisp couldn't see his face, Jenga gave a slight laugh at his expression.

"You're right," the other Wolf conceded. "It's a good idea, though I still say Anvard should be first. The Hermit is…well, he's a _hermit_. I'm sure he'd love to see Vesta again and I know he would look after Hosni if there was no better place for him, but if we went to the Hermit without even _trying_ anything on our own I doubt he'd appreciate it." Seeing Canisp's hesitation, she pressed, "Anvard is only a day's run, as long as Hosni's on horseback; and however kind the Hermit may be it would still be healthier for Hosni to be around people_._ If there's no luck in Anvard, we'll only have lost two days and we'll at least _know_ we're doing what's best."

Canisp felt Orion nod from her back. "She's right," he said. "Anyway, it's an excuse to take a nice long run through the most beautiful part of the Southern March in high summer. Now look me in the eye and tell me you don't want to do it!" He laughed and nibbled teasingly at her ear.

She flicked it, and tried not to laugh when the quick twitch smacked Orion in the face. Glancing over her shoulder, she grinned. "I can't," she said wryly. "Mostly because my neck doesn't bend that way, but you're still right. Anvard it is, then."

"But not yet," Jenga said sternly. "Take a few more days to recover your strength and let them enjoy themselves. And for the Lion's sake eat breakfast, or Angela will _kill_ me!"


	2. Angels

**Chapter 2-Angels**

"…all the way to Stagshead on deep runs, sometimes."

Canisp nodded tersely, only half paying attention. The beautiful, homelike forest she'd admired from the mountainside the previous afternoon no longer seemed half so inviting when every westward breeze brought with it the thick stench of werewolves. Her wing burned in earnest now, jolting with every step, a constant reminder of how truly helpless she would be if she were attacked. A Wolf alone couldn't hold off a werewolf for more than a few moments; they were taller, more muscular, had stronger jaws and longer teeth, and their claws were hard and sharp enough to pierce a dragon's belly. Two Wolves working together could sometimes manage it if they caught their prey off-guard, but Canisp had the sick feeling that Jenga wouldn't help her if it came down to a fight.

A twig snapped somewhere to her right, and the changeling shied violently, leaping aside and almost knocking Jenga off her feet. The red Wolf yelped and snapped instinctively, and Canisp felt her hackles rise. Shaking her head sharply, she forced herself to stand down. She was a Narnian Wolf, she reminded herself with no small amount of chagrin. She should have known better than to let fear get the best of her.

Luckily, Jenga wasn't offended. "It won't be much longer now," she said reassuringly.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Canisp replied. She hadn't stopped scenting and scanning the forest since they'd left the mountain. Truth be told, she would have felt much better if they had been challenged immediately and then given leave; that was how it was _supposed_ to work. She knew why they hadn't been, of course—Kiro had told her, over their breakfast of lightly-seared horse. The head werewolf, Kane, had called off the southwestern border guards for the day. The huge storm-gray creature seemed more wary of alarming Canisp than Canisp was of being alarmed; he was apparently worried that even a single werewolf emerging from the trees without warning, let alone a trio of border guards, would bring back unpleasant memories. The cosseting would have irritated her if she hadn't been forced to admit, if only to herself, that he was probably right.

"You'll like Angela," Jenga said, pausing to sniff at the breeze and then altering their course slightly. "She's a good young healer, been training for it since she was seven years old. There's good blood in that line, and I'd normally be the first to tell you that kind of thing is just superstition." She seemed about to go on when she pricked her ears forward suddenly. "Oh, they're here," she said, sounding pleased.

They were; Canisp had no idea how she hadn't heard the faint shrieks of laughter, but once she started listening for them they were clear as crystal, carried and distorted pleasantly on the brisk summer wind. Jenga shifted into an eager trot, and Canisp was surprised to find that she felt no reluctance in matching the other Wolf's pace.

Within a few minutes, Jenga slowed to a stop, nudging through the underbrush with her tail waving boldly, completely at home. Canisp, following more warily at her heels, felt her spirits lift almost immediately at the sight that greeted her.

They had emerged into a small clearing, apparently caused by the fall of the large tree that formed one edge. Whatever storm had felled the massive pine was a long-forgotten memory now; grass grew high and wild around it, interspersed with clusters of flowers, and the log was clearly weathered. Small, thick brambles and bushes grew eagerly around the edges of the clearing, drinking in the sunlight normally blocked by the tall trees, and in the dancing grass there was a group of pups playing, shrieking with laughter and nipping at each other's heels. _Werewolf pups_, she thought with an edge of discomfort, but something in her warmed in spite of itself.

"Angela!" Jenga called warmly.

The gray werewolf lying sprawled comfortably on the log lifted her head and turned crimson eyes on them, though her ears remained pricked toward the group of pups. "Jen," she said, tail giving a careless wag. "Some storm last night!"

"For you, maybe!" Jenga said smugly. "I keep telling you to pull down that cliff and make that cave of Pavel's a proper den."

Angela rolled her eyes. "I keep telling _you_ that I'd like nothing better. I keep hoping it'll just fall in on itself and he'll have no choice."

Jenga gave a low bark of amusement. "Well," she said, "in the meantime you've got a patient, and I should get out of your fur." There was a slight pause as the pups stampeded towards the other side of the clearing. "How's our little rose?" she added quietly.

"Turning prematurely gray, if Pavel had anything to do with it," Angela responded in an undertone. "I snuck her out of the valley while he was talking to Marina."

Jenga laughed outright at that. "Of course you did." She dipped her muzzle to Angela and Canisp in turn and excused herself politely.

Angela finally turned her full attention to the changeling, and Canisp tried not to tense.

"Lucky for you I read Dinaric, or you'd have lost that wing," she said. There was no brag in her voice; she was simply stating a fact. She reached down beside the log and pulled over a leather satchel, nosing about inside and carefully pulling out supplies. "Speaking of which, how does it feel?" The pain in Canisp's wing flared white-hot, as if in response, and Angela seemed to read it in the changeling's expression. "I thought it might. I should have re-bandaged it yesterday, but you needed the sleep more. Now," she said seriously. "I need you to try to relax as much as possible. I'm not going to hurt you, but if you panic you could damage that wing even more."

Canisp nodded shortly, and Angela inclined her head. Very carefully, she extended one curved black claw and hooked it into the bindings. A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm Canisp, and the werewolf stopped immediately.

"You can't have felt that," she protested. "I've barely touched you. Don't look at me," she said sternly. "Watch the puppies, it'll distract you."

Canisp would normally have had something to say about not keeping an eye on a werewolf who was poking around at her injured wing, but after everything Angela had already done for her it seemed churlish to say so. She obediently turned her attention to the puppies.

There were four of them, with a fifth—older by several years, more adolescent than pup, with ears pricked forward attentively—sitting on a rock on the opposite side of the clearing, clearly serving as an extra pair of eyes to watch the children. Two of the younger pups were clearly twins; a brother and sister, slightly older than the others and so alike that it was all but impossible to tell them apart until they spoke. Their fur was as thick and black as Kiro's, but their chests and bellies were white—if slightly more brown than usual for all the sliding in the dirt they were up to.

The third was bigger than the twins but younger-looking, soft and almost puppyish still. His fur was thicker than Canisp had ever seen in a wolf; soft and plushy like a Persian kitten's, and a bold, shockingly pure white. He looked for all the world as if he'd gotten into a fight with an inkwell and lost; there was a splash of black spots on his left flank, and his paws and tail were tipped with black. He and the black female were on a team, she realized. The group had a wooden ball that they were batting between each other. If there were any rules at all, it was difficult to tell; the object seemed to be both to catch the ball and to bat it into your opponent, and sometimes a pup would simply grab it and rush off, inciting the others to chase after him—or her, as the case might be.

It was complete anarchy, and completely perfect. Canisp's heart ached unexpectedly at the thought of a different trio of pups. _They would have liked these ones,_ she thought suddenly, and the very idea surprised her as much as that she'd thought of it.

She almost didn't notice the fourth. A tiny, red-brown creature with shaggy fur and paws too big for her body, she frowned in intense concentration as the older pups swatted their wooden ball around. Her ears never stopped moving, tiny little adjustments as they swiveled towards every unexpected sound. She stayed on the outskirts of the group, seeming to follow the movements of the other puppies more than the movements of the ball.

The male twin had been cornered between his sister and her teammate. "Rosa!" he called, taking the ball in his mouth and flinging it to the smaller pup in what was apparently an egregious disregard for the rules, as the other two yelled _"That's cheating!"_ and the black she-pup leaped into the air and knocked the ball back to her partner. Her brother protested loudly, but it was no good; apparently the other team had scored a 'point', though there didn't seem to be any actual point-scoring system.

"Could you extend your wing, please?" Angela asked. Canisp hesitated, slowly unfurling the stiff, sore wing. She barely managed to open it a foot before a twinge of pain rushed up to her spine.

"That's all right," Angela assured her. "The wing's fallen partially asleep. Those bandages were too tight to keep on for days. Give it a minute and just relax it as much as you can, let it open on its own." Canisp nodded, trying to ignore the slightly sickening feeling of fresh blood slowly working its way into her feathers. "Don't look at it," the healer ordered. "You'll only stress yourself. You're very lucky, you know—it missed every bone in your wing. I don't think even Pavel could have splinted those."

It was the second time Canisp had heard the name. "Pavel?"

Angela shook out her thick mane irritably. "Our head healer. My master. He knows every poison and every antidote in Narnia or beyond and he hasn't lost a patient since I was four years old. He's Rosa's father," she added, nodding to the group of pups. "There's no one better." Still, Canisp was unconvinced. Angela spoke of Pavel with a look of intense distaste. Skilled he might be, but it was clear that at least in his apprentice's eyes there were many wolves better than Pavel.

At least she didn't think him worth dwelling on. "Try to _relax_ your wing," she said sternly. "Let it go limp. Watch the pups if it helps you." Canisp turned away, and with some effort was able to loosen the muscles in her injured wing enough for Angela to pull it carefully open with velveted paws.

"Oh, this is good," she said approvingly. "It hasn't festered, the poinsettia's doing its job. I'm going to leave it in the poultices for now, but I'm not going to use quite as much of it this time. You can see—you can look at it, Canisp. See," she pointed out with a razor claw. It certainly didn't _look_ good, but Canisp had to admit she'd seen far worse; at least, as Angela had said, the wound was uninfected and oozing nothing but sluggish blood. "It was a clean pierce, the initial bleeding got most of the dirt out and I took care of the rest. It'll take a good while to close, of course, and I don't want you flying again until I'm sure the wing can bear your weight, but I think I can safely cut back on the poinsettia and use some non-magical substitutes, which I'm sure Pavel will appreciate." Angela reached over and gently turned Canisp's muzzle away. "This will take a bit. Watch the pups."

It surprised Canisp that she could hear the easygoing humor in the order. It wasn't that Angela's voice was any less rough or any less a growl; but she could hear past that, enough that it wasn't distracting. Perhaps it just took a little getting used to.

"Who are they?" Canisp asked, encouraged by her newfound comfort.

"The children of the pack," Angela answered, laying out different-colored bottles and jars and clusters of leaves tied with twine, none of which were labeled; one benefit, Canisp supposed, of a lupine sense of smell. She looked up, unmistakable fondness in her eyes. "The one chasing his tail is Tobias, the twins are Cas and Cassie." Canisp laughed quietly; a little pair of werewolf twins gallantly named in the Northern custom was unexpectedly charming. "Caspian and Cassandra, really, but not even their mother calls them that. The gray is my brother," she said with muted pride. "Jesse. He's just become a runner… almost a year ago, now, actually. His twelfth birthday, and he'll have thirteen years behind him in a few months."

"Good for him," Canisp said. The discomfort was back in full force. A pack large enough to have five pups from four clearly different mating pairs was large enough to have a system like the Great Pack had, and now they spoke of _runners_…

"It's not like that," Angela said quickly, taking a glass phial in her teeth and carelessly pouring the measure into a pestle. "Our runners aren't like the runners in a dominance system," she said firmly, almost seeming angry at the very idea. "They're more… Fauns call them assistants, but the centaurs call them squires. That's probably the closest thing to it. Their scout or guard or what have you teaches them everything they know, and they help them however they can until they're ready to stand alone. Jesse's been runner to Kane for almost a year now. He's a good wolf. Don't fold your wing; let me do it."

Canisp took another look at the storm-gray runner across the clearing. Now that she was looking for it, she _could_ see the resemblance. Jesse's fur was sleeker than his older sister's, his eyes a darker red and his fur stormy where hers was a light, almost delicate shade of rainy gray. But they had the same white chest and belly, the same bold features, the same build; strong and fierce, but not muscular or overtly powerful. _Almost, dare she say it, noble?_ It seemed to her that they also had the same seriousness in their eyes, a kind of mutedness they didn't share with others, but Canisp knew better than to ask.

"He looks it," she said finally.

"He looks like our father," Angela said quietly. Canisp looked over at her tone, but the healer smiled and shook her head. "Nova," she said. "He was a good wolf, too." Canisp couldn't help but feel there was something she was missing, but sensed it was a something she would have to wait to hear about. She wasn't sure she was ready for it, yet.

"That should hold you for another few days." Angela flashed a grin that contained far too many teeth as Canisp looked over in surprise. The healer took the shift in position as a chance to grab the trailing end of a complicated-looking knot and pull it tight. The bandages bound her wing closer to her body, causing a momentary sharp ache as tiff muscles were pulled into place; but as Angela quickly secured the tail end of the knot, the fit was snug but not cutting.

Angela looked inordinately pleased with herself. Canisp resisted the urge to bite her, just to wipe the smirk off her face.

Across the clearing, Jesse barked and jumped off his rock, trotting with no particular sense of urgency into the trees. One of the excitable Tobias' swats had gone wild, sending the ball flying into the underbrush and beyond, and the pups had predictably bounded after it, baying like particularly clumsy hounds on a scent.

The little pup—Rosa—tried to follow after them, but tripped on her oversized paws and fell. She scrambled to her feet no worse for wear than any other pup, but after taking one or two strides after her fellows she stopped and looked around in confusion, making a full circle and freezing as if lost. She scented the air and whipped her head from side to side, ears rotating wildly, and stumbled forward, then froze again. Her eyes, wide with fear, stared around the clearing but never focused, and Canisp realized with a jolt that she couldn't see any of it.

_She got turned around_, she thought. _She got turned around and she doesn't know where she is._ All alone in a featureless sea of grass, without the others to give her something to hone in on…

Rosa yipped once, a muted little sound, and then gave a loud, strangled yelp that barely managed to contain a level of terror that Canisp would not have thought possible of a young she-wolf who had only moments before been pouncing fearlessly at a pup who, while most of it was fur, was almost twice her size.

But terror it was; Rosa crouched onto her belly and howled, and Canisp couldn't even pretend the sound was unnatural. It wasn't the clean _ooo_ that a Wolf pup might have given, but no creature in the world could hear that call and not know it as a child crying for help.

She stood without realizing it, but before she could move Angela was already off the log and crouching over Rosa, pulling her close and murmuring quietly to her. The shivering pup pressed herself into Angela's leg, clinging to it as if trying to merge with her. As Canisp came up to them she saw that Rosa's claws were out, little needle-sharp talons burying themselves in the healer's thick fur. If they pricked her, Angela didn't show it.

"It's all right," she promised. "I'm here, I wouldn't leave you, little rose, I'll never leave you alone in the woods, you know that…"

"Angel," Rosa sobbed.

A low rumble rose in reply, and for a horrified moment Canisp thought Angela was _growling_ at the poor terrified pup. Then she saw Rosa's claws again—sharp, retractable like a cat's—and realized the truth. Angela was _purring._ A rough, wild, dangerous purr, almost a lioness' purr, but there it was; a low, thrumming vibration that seemed to soothe and comfort the little one, and that was all that really mattered.

And then out of nowhere, there were three werewolves in the press; Cas, the black-furred pup with the vivid white chest, seemingly sprouting out of the ground and looking almost as terrified as Rosa.

"Rose," he said, pressing up against her and sitting down flush with her side, absorbing her shivers and looking utterly wretched. "Rose, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. Please don't be scared, I promise I'll never do it again! I didn't know you fell, I thought you were right behind Tobias, _please_ don't be scared…" Pausing, he shook his head sharply, looking even angrier with himself. He sat up straighter. "We're right in the middle of the clearing," he said, and Canisp was taken aback by the sudden formality in his tone. He looked to have aged a year right in front of her eyes. "The log is closer than the rock but only by a few of Angela's tail-lengths. It's right ahead of you, but you're facing more along the slant going away than coming towards us. The rock is in a straight line from your left flank, and the place we were running to is right between it and the halfway point between the log and the rock, on your left."

Rosa's breathing was easier with every word he spoke; by the time the young wolf's recital was finished, she had taken her claws out of Angela's leg and was sitting quietly beside him. "Thank you," she whispered, sniffling and licking her paw.

"I'm supposed to be your eyes," Cas muttered. "I _promised_."

Angela looked up, and Canisp saw belatedly that the others had joined them; Jesse stood at her left shoulder, while Cassie and Tobias crouched at their heels, peering worriedly around Canisp's legs at Rosa.

"We should get back home," Angela said, her voice kind, and Rosa nodded miserably.

Canisp felt a thrill of terror as Angela lowered her head to pick up the little creature, and almost threw herself at the healer to stop her. She had seen Angela shatter spears in her jaws like Canisp would crack an eggshell, seen those teeth pierce mail like paper—and as she watched, those same teeth and jaws closed in Rosa's scruff, tender as a Fawn, so gently that the little pup barely seemed to feel it.

**A/N:** And thus ends the Great Canisp Upload. To anyone who had me on Author Alert: I am so, so sorry. Please take this cookie. From now on, updates will come in singular form, I promise!


	3. Anvard

**HOLY ASLAN that took longer than expected! What's it been, four months? Yeesh. Sorry about that folks. This chapter hated me, and then I was applying to colleges and housing and shit. Real Life can be a bitch. And not in the good Canisp sort of way.**

**Chapter 3-Anvard**

It took two weeks for Angela to declare Canisp fit for travel, with the stipulation that she have her wing checked again by a healer in Anvard and pick up as much dried poinsettia as she could find while they were in the city.

"It's worthless to anyone but us," Angela had griped, "but they'll still want to be paid for it, so tell them they'll get their silver in autumn just like they have every year." Jenga, looking amused but too polite to say anything, had agreed warmly. Apparently there was a long-running passive-aggressive feud between the healers of Anvard and the Horseshoe Pack.

"Half the time they'd die for each other, and half the time they'd slit each other's throats over a missing twig," Jenga said laughingly, and Canisp, thinking of the red wolf's namesake, had a very clear idea of what that kind of bond could be like. She laughed unthinkingly picturing it, then stopped short.

The pain she was expecting didn't come, and, slowly, she smiled.

"Canisp!" Jenga called from up ahead. "Are you all right?"

Canisp looked up to where the red wolf was waiting patiently, Orion perched on a branch above her head. A curious Vesta and Hosni stood nearby; Vesta flicking her tail, Hosni trying to surreptitiously tuck his feet against the saddlebags to keep them from dangling.

She looked instinctively for Ilona among the group.

Ah. _There_ was the pain.

She forced herself to focus on the members of her pack who had survived. The time spent waiting for Canisp to recover had done wonders for them; the free air, the wide forests and cool water and a warm den for Hosni to return to had brought the boy alive, and the rest and peace had left _all_ of them in better shape. But after the long period of delirious contentment, both Hosni and Vesta were quite ready to move on. With nothing to do except relax and nothing to draw with or work on, Hosni quickly became restless and agitated, and his eagerness to do _something_ had spread infectiously to his Horse.

If nothing else, the past fortnight had forced Canisp to acknowledge the wisdom of Jenga's insistence on finding Hosni somewhere human to live. He enjoyed Vesta's company and drank in the sight of the forest and the mountains with all the wonder of a man seeing Aslan's own country; but Canisp, once she started watching, could see the way he avoided ever being alone, glanced over his shoulder every few seconds. He never entered the den of his own volition, always waiting to be invited in first.

He loved the Wolves and trusted them—but he didn't belong in their world.

"Not yet," Orion had said. Canisp suspected he was only trying to boost her spirits, but she wanted her spirits boosted, so she let him.

Kiro was sitting next to Jenga, their noses bumping gently in a loving farewell. Canisp was slightly disappointed that the black Wolf wasn't going to accompany them; she had been hoping to talk to him on the run. Having someone stay to guard the den was more a formality than anything—the werewolves on whose land they lived were hardly likely to steal their cave while they were gone. It was really only a sign of respect. Kiro and Jenga were loners, guests on the edge of another pack's territory, and had no land to defend just as they had no voice in the werewolf pack's decisions, and to some the understanding of separation was important. It was an uncommon arrangement. Wolves tended to have an innate need for their own well-marked boundaries and a clear-cut system of leadership. Loners were an uncomfortable idea; homeless wanderers with no leader, responsible for no one, answerable to no one. A proper pack would usually allow a loner to rest on their territory for only a fortnight or so before asking them to either run with the pack or move on.

This werewolves, however, didn't seem bothered by the outsiders on its doorstep. Jenga and Kiro left when they chose, respected the borders and the border guards, and hunted on the pack's territory only with permission; in return, they had peace and privacy, if not the security that came of guarding one's own land.

"It's right for us," Kiro had said simply, and Canisp supposed that was really all that mattered.

Jenga looked up as the changeling approached. "After you."

The first leg of a new kind of journey, then; one where there was nothing behind them, nothing to flee. The earth beneath her paws was rich and loose and untainted with the scent of fear, and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she had something to run _to._ A future, perhaps; but at the very least a friendly place and an easy path and friends at her flanks once more.

And she found she couldn't move.

"Canisp," Orion called down, casually giving his right wing a last-minute preening.

She looked up at him, pleading, and he smiled.

"I'll race you," he said.

Slowly, Canisp's ears pricked forward, and she felt something in her heart agree to it.

And then Orion gave a wild screech and fell off his branch, using the momentum to fight his way into the sky; Vesta shied for a moment before answering the cry with a bugle of her own, tossing her head as a warning to her passenger before giving a little half-rear and darting after the Eagle, with a laughing Jenga hard on their heels.

"They'll leave you behind," Kiro said, quietly amused. Canisp looked over at him, and grinned without realizing it. She whirled around, short claws digging into the thick soil, and raced after them.

She'd catch them up eventually. In the meantime she was running, with safety behind her and the world ahead and Orion's whoops of joy in her ears as he rode the wind high above.

In the meantime, they were _free._

* * *

"So go on then," Jenga said with an easy smile. "Ask."

Orion looked over at the Wolf with a look of surprise. At least, Canisp assumed so; it was difficult to tell when he insisted on perching right behind her head.

"Ask what?" he inquired.

Jenga's smile didn't falter as she winked cheerfully, breaking into a short, easy lope as they crested a particularly steep portion of hill. They had lost track of Vesta and Hosni ages ago; Canisp kept expecting the Horse to slow down and take a rest, but almost three weeks of laziness seemed to be working their way out of Vesta's hooves all at once and her boy was enjoying the ride. Every so often the pair would come prancing back to check that their companions hadn't died, but then they'd be off again, following the path only in the sense that they stayed within half a mile of it and were continuing in the general direction of Anvard.

It put Canisp horribly on edge, but Jenga had finally managed to soothe her with an ironclad promise that this part of Archenland was perfectly safe and ever since they had left the last of the werewolf scent markers behind them Canisp was feeling much more at home.

Jenga paused just below the crest of the hill, waiting for Canisp to struggle up to her. The changeling's wing was all but perfect; the wound would leave a scar but Angela expected it to heal properly and leave no lasting damage. Still, it was bound and would remain so for at least, the healer insisted firmly, another three days, with flight absolutely outlawed until further notice. There was no longer any pain—just a tenderness—but the binding was wreaking merry havoc on Canisp's sense of balance and she was more than ready to have it off.

"She's been trying not to ask about the werewolves since you got here," Jenga continued with a knowing grin when Canisp fell back into step at her flank. "You noticed it too!"

"Maybe," Orion admitted. "It just seemed rude to point it out."

"I was going to ask Kiro," Canisp informed them both, swiping out with her good left wing in an attempt to clip Jenga over the head with it. The red Wolf had grown wise to her tricks, however, ducking her head without breaking stride and giving a delighted laugh at the show of spirit. Canisp couldn't help the reluctant grin that broke out in response.

"He'd tell it better than I would," Jenga allowed. "If he told it at all. It's a long story and it's not ours to tell; Kane wouldn't have told you who we were, either, if we didn't tell you first." She paused, glancing over at Canisp and meeting her eyes. "There's no harm in them," she said, momentarily serious. "There never was. They're not the werewolves you remember. They're Aslan's, they've never belonged to the Witch."

Canisp hesitated for a cluster of heartbeats before dropping her head in wary acknowledgement. "I believe you."

Jenga's tail gave a tentative wag.

"Well, let's go then," she said, the warm sparkle in her eyes flaring up again. "Let's see if we can get Vesta tired out by the time we reach Anvard, shall we?"

Canisp tried to tell Orion _don't you dare,_ but before she could so much as open her mouth he had already shifted to grip his talons around her wing joints and given a wild screech right beside her head, and she raced East with her ears ringing.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to slip out from overhead when they wound their way down from the sunny hills and up to the gates of Anvard. They had discovered, to Canisp's displeasure and a sweating and exhausted Vesta's great chagrin, that summers in Archenland, while much more bearable than summers in Calormen, were still hot and miserable when the sun was high and had the added benefit of being _sticky_. A helpful Deer had pointed them in the direction of a cool stream just after midday, which had been a godsend, but all five of the travelers were more than ready to find the healers' and a friendly waystation and escape the heat.

The guards at Anvard were no less physically imposing than the ones at Tashbaan, Canisp told herself; but the cheerful inverted-lion of Archenland on their tunics and banners (a red lion on gold, sister to Narnia's gold-on-red) was much more welcoming, and they were cheerful as they waved the few travelers unlucky enough to be out in the summer heat through the gates. There was even a lazy-looking black-and-white Cat stretched out on the cool stone in the shade of the guardhouse window, and one of the younger guards scratched the fat tom beneath the chin as he watched them approach.

"Come from across the Pass, little brother?" he called out to Hosni. "That's quite the group you have!"

"From the March!" Jenga corrected. "And our friends escaped slavery in Calormen. We're visiting the healers, and looking for a position for a young Son of Adam and a Narnian Horse."

The guard looked astonished and delighted at once. "Lion's Mane!" he exclaimed; and then, seeming to notice Canisp's bandaging for the first time, "are you hurt badly, cousin? Is there any help we can offer you?"

Jenga declined politely and the group was about to move off when the second, older guard cleared his throat with a mysterious smile.

"Beggin' your pardon, cousins," he said, and Canisp recognized the Lone Islands in his voice. Vesta snorted with alarm and she felt Orion tense on her back, but strangely she didn't share their trepidation. This man, with his thick dark hair and stubble, should have put her on edge; but he smelled clean, like horses and leather and steel, and his voice and eyes were honest and bold. She _liked_ him. "Only I ken see you've quite th' group an' I'd like to help ya, if you'll allow. Be well worth th' trouble, little sister," he added with a respectful nod to Canisp, "an' may just care for th' boy as well."

"What is it?" asked Canisp, wariness starting to build again in the pit of her stomach. The guards were friendly, terribly friendly, utterly at ease and so _helpful_, but she wasn't quite _that_ fast to forget Calormen. She had no doubt Don had been a remarkably friendly man.

The guard pulled out a set of keys and unlocked a side door, pointing through the guardhouse. "Second door on th' right, turn left, firs' thing ya see, miss. Can't hardly miss it."

"Miss what?" she demanded, but the man's smile just said _trust me_.

And she was no longer alone. She looked back at Jenga, who returned the look with one that said _you're the Alpha here._

Orion bumped the back of Canisp's head with his beak. "It's not a trap, Canisp," he said quietly. "We need the help." But she still couldn't make herself do it.

_Stone walls and locked doors _no_ not again never again-_

The guard seemed to sense her trepidation. "I ken show ya, if it'd help," he offered. "Go first 'n all. Fergot what Wolves ken be like, walls an' such. Follow on, cousins, Allan'll handle the gate fer a bit." Without looking back, he slipped the keys back into his pocket and cheerfully preceded them through the guardhouse. Canisp carefully followed behind him, gauging the distance carefully. She knew she was being paranoid, but still… _not so close that he can grab us, he's right-handed so follow on his weaker side but don't let him get too far ahead or he'll be able to duck out of the way of whatever trap he might spring…_

The hallway was short and narrow and the walk lasted less than thirty seconds, but when they emerged back into the blinding sunlight—their guide whistling cheerfully and holding the door for them, on the other side of which was an utter lack of malicious intent—Canisp felt like she'd just outrun the entire Vereor.

"Righ' over there, miss," said the guard, pointing along the wall.

It took a moment for Canisp's vision to adjust to the sun. When she did so, she was met with a rather unremarkable sight—a small training yard, likely used by the city guard to keep in shape. A small stable formed the back wall, home to nothing but sleepy-looking bays if the single head poking out of its stall was any indication. Wooden poles and straw dummies that had seen better days were propped along the fourth, and a low split-log fence marked the final boundary. Several pairs of partners were sparring halfheartedly in the center, wearing loose cotton tunics or simply going shirtless in the sun. Instinctively, Canisp sniffed the air. Horses, sand, a great deal of sweat…

Orion fell off her back and into the dirt as she launched herself forward. Canisp barely registered it; she discovered she didn't actually need wings to fly, leaping the fence without touching it. The figure in the center of the training yard spun around in shock and instinctively raised the wooden practice sword but the changeling didn't stop, plowing into the human's chest and knocking them down with a sound that was half howl and half sob. She covered the young fighter's face in long, desperate sweeps of her tongue, bathing her in unapologetic kisses like a lapdog.

And Ilona clung to her, clutched her thick scruff like a lifeline and let Canisp lick the salt from her face as both of them struggled to breathe, laughing through their tears.


	4. Reunion

**Chapter 4 – Reunion**

Hosni had never seen fireflies before.

Now that the sun was almost set, the heat of the Narnian summer had passed. A lazy breeze stirred the forest surrounding Anvard, and Canisp closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She was dizzy with contentment and the scent of pine and stone and the coolness of night, a reassuringly wild offset to the closer smells of the city; horse and straw, leather and metal, livestock and carts and the domestic scent of bedsheets and humans.

And Ilona. Eyes still closed, Canisp gently bumped Ilona's arm out of the way, resting her head in the girl's lap. Ilona rested her arm around Canisp's neck, where it all but disappeared into the thick scruff of white fur. Her hand rested against the changeling's shoulder, just above the joint of the bound wing, and she stroked it idly, watching Hosni watch fireflies.

There was an almost childlike innocence on the boy's face as he stared at the gently pulsing lights. Ilona had grinned like a little girl when she first saw his amazement, and she had taken him by the hand and pulled him out the guardhouse gate, showing him how to catch them as dusk raced in. Canisp remembered well her own wonder the first time she had chased lightning bugs—light on her feet, paws dancing playfully over cool moss and damp leaves, nipping at seemingly magical sparks with Orion's laughter in her ears, the first truly carefree moment she had known since the dungeons. A rich purple sunset over Anvard with a pair of humans skidding in the grass and the scent of stars twirling through the air had woken that old spirit of abandon. Her steps had been heavier, this time; she was tired, it was harder to balance with her wing tied, and her head was still spinning with the enormity of Ilona's presence, her _survival,_ her unchanged eyes—no shadows, there, no shattered innocence, no laughing spark dead forever… this time it was Hosni's moment, and Ilona's, but they still turned to Canisp as she bounded around them in the shadows, and laughed, and it was more than enough.

Ilona had ruffled her ears like a lapdog's, and laughed, and smiled softly at Hosni as she carefully held a blinking firefly in the three fingers that remained on her left hand.

Orion had been the first to notice her mutilated hand. She had pushed herself up on it, crying and laughing as Canisp tried to nuzzle up to her, and his eyes had snapped to the dusty bandage like it was a field mouse.

"It's nothing," she had tried to assure him.

She had rolled up the sleeves of her loose training tunic. The lashes on her shoulders were healed, but the scars of a Calormene whip remained.

"I'm _fine,_ Canisp," she had insisted. The changeling's spiraling horror—_what have they done to her, what did I abandon her to, there must have been another way—_had been cut off by a wordless bugle of joy from Vesta. Ilona had looked past Canisp and grinned widely and more easily than she had ever seen as Hosni had slid shyly off Vesta's back, hunching his shoulders and trying to contain the uncontrollable happiness on his face.

Ilona, of course, was having none of that. Clambering to her feet, she had thrown her arms around his neck and hugged him like it had been years since they last met, kissing him on the cheek and breathing him in as deeply as any Wolf would have done for their mate. General celebration had broken out for some time; the City Guard had taken Ilona in and trained her on faith, purely after hearing she had learned knifework from a Narnian in Tashbaan, and she had been only too anxious to give them her story. The whole lot of them had been waiting for any news on Canisp's whereabouts; seeing their young sister reunited with the changeling she had spoken of with such love was the highlight of their summer, and they had made the most of it.

The Lone Islander who had claimed the right to reunite them had sternly reminded the 'lads' that half of them were on duty the next day, but that didn't stop them from cheerfully including the newcomers in a sweet ham dinner, roasted on a spit outside the walls, with hot bread and cool water and more than enough laughter to go around. A rich Narnian wine was poured into bowls for the Wolves and a wide-rimmed goblet for Orion—Hosni took a sip of his, and his face made Ilona laugh before she squeezed his hand apologetically and poured wine from his goblet into Orion's.

Much had been made of Vesta, as well. The guardsmen rarely enough had the opportunity to entertain Talking Beasts, and their form of hospitality suited her far better than the Calormene pampering. A lean-to had been prepared, fresh apples brought up from a cellar, and the brush-down she had received had been reinvigorating, restoring her to wild beauty rather than tame, delicate grace.

Orion had drifted to sleep with the sun, fluttering happily up to the eaves of the stable and tucking his head under his wing. If Canisp listened, she could hear him snoring from here. Jenga had also called her night early; she was curled back-to-back with the young guard who had happily kept her wine bowl filled all evening, and just as happily—to her great amusement—helped himself to the majority of it. But he had kept them all smiling with legends and tales from the history of the North, and been kind enough to fold his blanket in half for her to sleep on, so Canisp could only assume she had thought it a fair trade.

Across the yard, Vesta snorted at a passing firefly, and Hosni gave a soft breath of laughter. He was all but falling asleep against the wall, joining several other members of the Guard who had chosen to simply stretch out on bedrolls or use extra tunics or capes as pillows, taking advantage of the contented atmosphere to sleep under the familiar, twinkling stars of Archenland as their fire burned slowly to coals. Ilona glanced over at him, smiled, and nudged him in the ribs. Hosni jumped slightly, straightening up; she responded with a slight shake of her head, gently prodding him until his head was resting against her leg. He gave a tired smile of thanks and pulled a blanket one of their hosts had given him over his head.

Ilona moved her arm, resting it on Hosni's head rather than her knee, and the bandage caught Canisp's eye again.

Ever perceptive, Ilona didn't miss the look.

"It's only the little finger, Canisp," she said quietly. "I don't need it. It didn't even fester. Torran says I won't even need to bandage it after the next half-moon."

Her voice was soft, reassuring—she meant what she said, that Calormen had not broken her, that she considered her injuries a matter for the past, her ordeal long behind her. But there it was, just for a moment, behind her gentleness; an imprint of fear, a brief twitch of remembered pain.

Canisp gave a low, thin whine of concern, gold eyes searching brown, filled with unspoken concern. She pawed anxiously at Ilona's knee.

_What happened?_ The question she couldn't ask, wouldn't ask, would not have answered herself. Ilona idly ran a thumb over the silky-smooth fur on Canisp's paw, and the changeling wondered if she could sense the scars. Did Ilona remember the lattice of wolfsbane burns that had wound their way along her mistress' arms when they sparred? She had seen them, Canisp knew that much. She had seen them, and comprehended them, and then never spared them a second glance. Did she know that the marks of the Vereor were burned into her flesh in this form as well, hidden under fur and feathers but no less present? Did she understand why Canisp would not ask the questions burning at her mind?

_What did they do to you?_ A story that was not hers to request, that could only be given in Ilona's own time.

_Why did you do it? _A question she knew the answer to, knew it the same way she had never questioned Meya's sacrifice, never wondered why she herself had stepped between Maugrim and her sister.

And then the one question she could ask, the one answer she had the right to request.

"How did you escape?" she asked quietly, and Ilona's eyes were sad with the weight of the meaning behind the simple question.

"Lies," she said simply. "I was very indignant, my lady. I told them I was on a mission for Tash and they'd get nothing out of me. The whip was just to scare me, I think," she mused. "I've had worse beatings before. And then Rabadash threatened to let his men have me—"

Canisp's fur prickled sharply as she tensed.

"His men were led by Ishdar," Ilona said softly. "Nothing happened to me that I won't heal from, my lady." She ran her fingers through the fur at Canisp's neck until the changeling calmed.

"Not that they realize that," she said casually. "I let them think they'd broken me. Rabadash postured, made his threats, and when he took the finger I screamed and cried and told them everything."

Canisp stared at her, and a true, cocky Northern grin spread across Ilona's face.

"Oh, yes," she said seriously. "I told them all about how I'd been kidnapped and terrorized by a Narnian shapeshifting demon that pretended to be an angel of Tash. I hope you'll forgive me, O my mistress and O the delight of my eyes, for betraying your secrets, but I'm afraid the Tisroc knows about your plans to infiltrate Calormen, trick him into going to war, and then escape to lead a special force of demons to assassinate him in Tashbaan while all of his generals were off fighting. I did, of course, beg them not to make me speak the truth, because you would come to me in dreams and give me horrible nightmares where I died a thousand thousand deaths, and threaten to kill me if I spoke. I'm afraid he's called off the invasion, and is proud to not have fallen for your tricks."

Canisp was beginning to grin as well. "You _little_… Does Orion know about this?"

Ilona tried to stifle her laughter for the sake of the sleeping guards. "I'll tell him tomorrow, my lady," she whispered. "Remind me not to forget that you forced me to switch places with Hosni when I refused to come with you out of loyalty to Tash." Ishdar, Canisp thought drily, must have loved that. "Or the part where you used your demonic powers to give Hosni the ability to speak to animals and turn into a spotted desert cat, in return for poisoning the generals."

"Poisoning…?"

"Only the ones who are cruel to their slaves."

Canisp shifted uneasily. "Narnians don't use poison. It's a coward's weapon."

"It's the weapon of the helpless," Ilona corrected.

"You're not helpless," Canisp growled warningly.

"And I didn't kill them." Ilona sighed. "I just gave the rhododendron nectar to the kitchen girl who did. She knew what it was. I didn't trick her." She paused, sensing that Canisp's anger was not appeased. "I knew her, my lady. She had every right to take her revenge. Not every slave in the Tisroc's palace had a changeling to protect them." She seemed to weigh her next words, then added reluctantly, "And not every Garshid is stopped."

Canisp paused, then gently nudged her elbow. Ilona sighed again, but smiled and placed her arm back over the wolf's neck. A dog barked distantly in the city. Outside the walls, the shrill chirping of crickets was an almost steady hum.

"What now, my lady?" she asked.

It took a long time for Canisp to answer.

"I don't know," she admitted in a low murmur. "We have to find a place for Hosni and Vesta. Orion and I will go over the pass into Narnia, or along the mountains to Stormness Head to join the Eagles, or follow the coast to Cair Paravel just to see it… We might even stay in Anvard, for a little while," she offered hesitantly.

"You hate cities, my lady," Ilona reminded her.

"Anvard isn't Tashbaan. You have a place here. Hosni would be nearby. I don't have anywhere to go…"

Ilona was already shaking her head.

"You would stay for a while," she said. "You would even be happy, my lady, we all would. We're a pack, we're meant to be together." Canisp looked up, tail wagging happily at the unexpected affirmation. "But you don't belong here. Orion doesn't belong here. Even Hosni and Vesta won't belong here forever."

"But you do."

Canisp hadn't wanted to acknowledge it; it had been an Elephant in the room even throughout the unbridled joy of Ilona's self-made miracle. It was selfish, perhaps… but she didn't want to leave her. Ilona was a city girl, born and bred, and would flourish in Anvard, free and protected and _human_. But she was Canisp's best friend after Orion, and the changeling didn't want her to stay behind.

"You belong here," she forced out. "_This_ is your world. You were born for this."

Ilona fingered the cord of her pendant, staring intently at nothing in particular.

"I was born for you, my lady," she said finally.

"You don't have to stay with me," Canisp insisted. She sounded like Orion. Normally, the thought would have made her smile. Right now she hated his logic. "You're _free_, Ilona, and you don't need me for protection anymore. Stay here. Live your own life."

Ilona set her shoulders firmly. "I've seen too much of cities," she said. "All I know is how to disappear in them, find a place and stay in it. I don't want to disappear anymore." She took a deep breath, and her voice was low and determined when she spoke again. "You told me once you wanted me with you as a friend." It could not have been a clearer challenge if she'd had fangs and hackles to back it up. _You promised me,_ her eyes accused. They said what Ilona was too kind to. _You promised me you would never leave me behind._

She needn't have bothered with the silent reminder. Canisp's tongue had been sneaking its way between her teeth since Ilona started talking, and she suddenly surged upwards, licking Ilona's face for the second time that day, bumping her head happily against the girl's and making her yelp in pain. Hosni also jumped and flailed out of Ilona's lap, as Canisp had stepped on his face.

"Oy," muttered one of the guards nearby without heat. "Some of us are trying to sleep, here."

Hosni blinked tiredly at Ilona, and she mouthed an apology and stretched her leg out before indicating that he should go back to sleep.

Canisp yawned widely, teeth gleaming in the dying firelight. Ilona leaned back against the wall, Canisp rested her heavy head in the girl's lap, and as the last sparks of the fire took flight to mingle with the stars, she was already asleep.


End file.
